Nymphadora
by AbRaCaDaBrA
Summary: She's young, she's an Auror, and she can make her hair any color she wants. Join Tonks at Harry and Neville's 16th birthday party and learn a thing or two about everyone's favorite Metamorphmagus. CH4: A certain special someone visits Tonks at work.
1. 1

With a flick of her wand, Tonks guided the large, painted banner to the top overhang of the Burrow, right above the twins' old room. Glittering in the sunlight, and flashing in different colours, were the bold words _**Happy Birthday to Harry and Neville!**_ Around her, Mrs. Weasley and various members of the Order were busy setting up tables and conjuring chairs, all chatting merrily in the warm July sunshine. Mr. Weasley, Ron, and Harry were all due from the train station soon, coming in a Ministry car escorted by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Later, Neville, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati were coming for a big sixteenth birthday dinner and summer get-together.   
  
Adults were getting together as well for some un-strenuous talks in the midst of the growing concerns of the resurgence of Voldemort. Everyone needed a break, a good time, a festivity for relaxation before returning to the mission of the Order.  
  
"Here they are!" shouted Ginny, shading her eyes to make out a shiny, dark-green car kicking up a cloud of dust far away on the long dirt driveway. Tonks pocketed her wand and joined Mad-Eye Moody and Hestia Jones at the gate with Ginny. Molly Weasley came last and parted her way through the small crowd as the increasingly dustier car came to a halt.   
  
Kingsley was the first out of the car, and Harry could barely get a leg out of the backseat before a beaming Mrs. Weasley was upon him. "Harry!" She hugged him embarrassingly tightly.  
  
"Huwo, Mifuf Weafwey," Harry replied into a wool sweater shoulder. She let him stand up and nearly gasped at the sight of his oversized, hideous jeans.  
  
"Oh, dear, you _will_ let me fix your trousers so they fit, won't you?"  
  
"Well, sure, Mrs. Weasley," replied Harry, overwhelmed with maternity.  
  
"Mum, let him breathe," said Ron, sliding out behind Harry. "Air is essential."  
  
Arthur got out of the other side of the car, waving a small, glossy sheet of paper excitedly. "Look, Molly! The _train schedule_!"  
  
"Very nice, dear," said Molly automatically.  
  
"It's great to see you again, Harry!" called Hestia, moving through the gate behind Molly.   
  
The pretentious-looking driver went to the boot of the car, and Tonks rushed to Harry's luggage. "I'll get that!" she chirped, promptly shutting her hand in the door.  
  
"Glad you're here," greeting Moody gruffly, clumped forward on his clawed foot to shake Harry's hand. His swivelling blue eye focused on somewhere beyond Harry's left shoulder, and he growled "_Watch it, Tonks!_" just before Harry's suitcase thumped to the ground.  
  
"Sorry, sorry!" she yelped, drawing out her wand to levitate the suitcase.  
  
"It's had worse," Harry replied, longingly watching the bit of magic float by.  
  
"Let's get you situated, shall we, dear?" Molly took Harry by the arm, Ron rolling his eyes, and they walked through the gate and into the Burrow.

* * *

Tonks was wearing a pair of rosy-maroon trousers, each leg of which she could wear as a full skirt. Above a black strapped shirt, her hair was in thick, shoulder-length dreadlocks the same color as her trousers. "Wotcher, Harry!" she greeted, taking a sip of Ogden's Bucks Fizz.  
  
"'Wotcher'," repeated Harry, taking a chair from a nearby table. "What exactly does that mean, anyway?"  
  
"It's a greeting, of course," she replied, crossing her legs. "My dad's always saying quaint stuff like that - he's from Cheapside, London. I think it's supposed to be a corruption of 'What cheer' or something like that."  
  
"Tonks, there you are!" Hermione appeared in the twilight with a heinously huge book clutched in her hand. "Oh, hi, Harry."  
  
"Wotcher," he replied, grinning.  
  
Hermione looked at him oddly and turned back to Tonks. "Listen, I was reading this -" she displayed the cover of the thick book entitled _The Protean Complex_ "- and I was wondering some things about Morphimagi. Would you mind helping me?" She pulled over a chair next to Harry and placed the brick on her lap.  
  
"Wow," said Tonks, her dark eyes twinkling, "I haven't seen my copy of that in _ages_." She put out her hand and Hermione handed her the book. Tonks began flipping through the yellowing pages in silence, and Harry caught Hermione's eye. He gave her a look that clearly read, _What do you think you're doing?_, and she responded with a look that clearly read, _It's interesting, so shut it_.   
  
Tonks finally spoke. "This is the 26th edition, which is getting pretty old. I think next year the 32nd or 33rd is due. Somewhere at my parents' house - but don't bother looking, you can't even find Dad in the clutter nowadays - is the 30th edition, which I got as a birthday present when I was six." She began to look something up in the index.  
  
"Who would give you that book when you're _six_?" asked Harry, surprised. "I mean, could you even _read_?"  
  
Tonks laughed. "I was just learning how to read then, but my uncle...." She stopped suddenly for a moment, her face falling. "Well, second cousin...gave it to me, as he worked in a bookstore at the time." She took in a deep breath, shuddering even in the warm evening, and sighed.  
  
Hermione looked confused, but Harry had put two and two together. "Sirius," he said simply. Tonks nodded. "Did you know him?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, actually - I sort of grew up with him. He had a flat with Remus a few streets over when we lived on Cecil Court, so he was always over." She found what she was looking for with a small _a-ha!_ and turned to the page. "See here? Geoffrey Pettigrew, Peter's grandfather." There was a short biography next to a smiling picture of Geoffrey, who had only a hint of Peter's rat-like features. "He died in '78, but Sirius knew him and thought his ability was wicked. So when I first started to show signs, and my mum and dad had no clue what was going on, it was he who put things together.  
  
"What first signs?" asked Harry, curious. "How did you know?" He ignored Hermione kicking his chair in exasperation as Tonks returned the book.  
  
"It nearly drove Mum mad," she replied, uncrossing her legs and putting down her drink. "It began when I was five...."

* * *

I spent most of my childhood inside. You-Know-Who was at the height of his power then, and even in broad daylight I wasn't allowed to go downstairs to Haversacker Haven without Mum, Dad, or Sirius holding my hand. While there were lots of fun wizarding shops in Cecil Court, and Muggle ones too when you wanted a laugh, I could only watch the bustle below longingly from the window in my room. Mum worked in a cauldron shop down the road, close enough that she could come home and check up on me for lunch, while Dad was a security wizard at the Ministry.   
  
Sirius drifted from job to job, wherever he was needed and paid handsomely, and the most memorable was him sweeping up the apothecary across the street. On breaks he would throw a pebble at my window and wave. Of course, the stones were enchanted, but the Muggles walking around with their noses in books on Atlantis and Stonehenge would, if ever they stopped reading long enough to catch sight of the flying pebbles, cite some mass Martian conspiracy cover-up and continue on their merry way. It was still comforting to know my second cousin, more like an uncle - or maybe even a much older brother - was keeping a constant eye out for me.  
  
Left alone for hours at a time, however, led me to having invent my own games a lot. I can only remember a few of them, most simply versions of the universal "Pretend" game, but one in particular remains clear in my mind. I was imagining I was the famous Quidditch star Tracey Griffith, probably running around the flat with Mum's mop and making a right mess of everything, when I passed hallway mirror and stopped short. When I was young, let me just add, I had my mum's dark eyes and my dad's mousy-brown hair.   
  
But what I had seen as I ran past was auburn-blonde hair and green eyes, like Griffith had. When I looked for a second time in the mirror, it was true - I looked like a cross between the famous Seeker and myself! And, to my astonished eyes, I watched as my frightened features slowly moved back to my original appearance. Seeing someone else's face as it changes is strange enough - imagine your own nose shortening as you watch! Fortunately, though, I was only five at the time, so any initial shock at my own unexpected unnaturalness was quickly overrun by outright fascination.  
  
To be a Metamorphmagus is not such an abnormal, amazing thing, or at least I think so. Of course, it sure isn't common, but nothing to get worked up over like some older wizards and witches have. Although it is a gift, it takes a bit of practice, both to be able to use it properly and to get used to it. I sat my little five-year-old bum down in front of the mirror and tried to get myself to look like Tracey Griffith again, but for some reason it just wouldn't work. For an hour all I did was stare at my reflection, willing my dark eyes to become green or my nose to elongate or my hair to lighten or _something!_ to prove that I wasn't just temporarily loony.   
  
Finally, I closed my eyes in frustration, and thought to myself, _What would Griffith do?_ She was my heroine back then, but somehow the idea that the Harpy wouldn't have the foggiest notion of how to respond didn't come up in my child mind. I imagined myself as Griffith, ready to take on a tough team and win, and when I opened my eyes again I saw her face looking back at me.   
  
That was the key - I knew it then, but only recently have I tried to put it into words. It's basically the premise that I look like whomever I think I look like. Surprisingly enough, or not surprising at all, considering your take on childhood intelligence, it was heaps easier to make myself believe I was someone else at age six. Truly believe, I mean. Some people think all I have to do is imagine myself looking like, say, a porlock to "become" one, but as soon as I try to appear as anything silly like that the first thought that crosses my mind is _"This is ridiculous!"_ It ruins the effect entirely, of course. The same is for humans nowadays. I can imagine and believe myself to be a bombshell or a boffin long enough to appear as one, but as soon as I forget who I am it's back to good ol' Tonks. Not back then, though. Those were the days when the game of "Pretend" was, for me, the game of "Become".  
  
I decided that I would greet Mum when she came home to check on me and prepare lunch, with Griffith's green eyes and Mum's long soft hair, which I loved when I was young. You must remember at the time I didn't know the definition of Metamorphmagus, or could even pronounce it if I wanted do. So I thought that maybe everyone had this knack of mine. I moved a rickety wooden chair from the kitchen into the front anteroom and waited for my mum to come home, reminding myself of my appearance as I heard her undoing the locks outside. She undid the door, lifted the strong Aegis Spell placed over the flat, took one look at the smiling me, and broke into tears.  
  
"Mum, what is it!?" I shrieked, instantly forgetting my disguise.  
  
"Oh, Nympha, I - I was jusd seeing things -" she sobbed, closing the door behind her and grabbing me in a desperate hug.  
  
"All right, Mum?" I asked, confused and afraid. Mum wasn't emotionally repressed or anything, but it took much to move her to such an extreme display of feeling.  
  
"It was just - just on the wireless - at the shop." She sniffed and sat down in the relocated chair, holding me in her lap, which was surprising, as I was already more than half her weight. The chair groaned ominously. "There was - was an attack, and I was so scared -"  
  
"Scared of what?" I asked curiously.  
  
"Scared of someone drying do - do hurd you," she sobbed, and wiped her streaming eyes on her robe sleeve.   
  
"Not your family?" I was still having nightmares of Narcissa and the intangible threat of the Blacks.  
  
"Oh, dear, it's so - so hard do explain," Mum said, cryptically. She sniffed some more and regained some of her composure. "But...your Mum's cousin, Sirius's brother - was killed."  
  
"But that's good, right?" The world is in black and white at that age.  
  
Mum nearly lost it again. "I - I can'd explain. When - when you're older...."  
  
That phrase has got to be the bane of every child's existence.  
  
Later on I asked, discovered, and inferred that day into sense. There had been a Death Eater attack on a half-blood household with Order of the Phoenix ties only a dozen streets away. Regulus Black, Sirius's younger brother, had joined the Death Eaters a few weeks previous, and this was his first serious mission. But when it came to him actually taking out his wand and Avada Kedavra'ing the Muggle husband, he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he played You-Know-Who the fool and let the Muggle escape.  
  
Of course, there's never any deceiving You-Know-Who, and another Death Eater assassinated Regulus shortly afterward. While the Black family mourned, Mum was upset because the Muggle went on the WWN and publicly linked the Blacks with You-Know-Who. All she needed was the nefarious Bartemius Crouch to take an interest and it would be her and Sirius's downfall. Returning to the flat to an unfamiliar face had broken the last defence she held against the dark world.   
  
The rest of the day passed in silence. We ate lunch and Mum returned to work. Sirius threw a rock at the window and I waved. Dad came home, Sirius visited for dinner, and I had entirely forgotten my new-found talent by afters.   
  
It was a heated discussion over cheap custard between the adults. I was starting to nod off when Mum admitted to her cousin her breakdown upon entering the flat. Upon hearing my name mentioned, I perked up and listened to my mum speak about imagining someone else.   
  
"But you _did _see someone else, didn't you, Mum?" I interrupted rudely.   
  
"Speak when you're spoken to," corrected Mum, tired from the stressful day.  
  
"What do you mean?" Sirius interjected, his curiosity piqued.  
  
"I was somebody else when she came home," I explained, obviously not making any sense to the adults. I read their faces and continued. "See, this morning, I was imagining I was Tracey Griffith, and then I was, so then I saw that I could be anyone I wanted to, it's just like what you told me, Dad, I can be anything I want to be."  
  
"That's good for you," said Dad blearily.  
  
"Healthy imagination," added Sirius.  
  
"No, it's not," I argued. "I can be Mum if I really want to." I thought hard about her dark eyes, her soft blonde hair, and the little lines that appeared between her eyebrows every day after work. Then I thought about being her, and judging from the simultaneous looks of exclamation from the three adults, it had worked.   
  
_"Nympha, where did you learn this?"_ asked Dad, leaning down towards me as if he was trying to hear me in a crowded concert hall.  
  
"I didn't learn it, I just did it," I said, thinking of myself as Tonks again.  
  
Sirius was grinning in amazement. "Andie, you've got yourself a Metamorphmagus for a daughter!"  
  
"A _what_?" asked Mum, pale.

* * *

"I don't remember any more of that evening; I probably started falling asleep again at that point," she finished, sipping her drink.  
  
"So it's a conceptualisation magic?" asked Hermione thoughtfully. "I was thinking that maybe it was some sort of outward visual perception alteration, but perhaps...." She began to drift in thought, and Harry and Tonks shared a blank look. "Sorry, it's just so fascinating," Hermione apologised, bringing herself back to the evening at the Burrow.   
  
"Sirius thought so, too." Tonks tried putting the Ogden's on the ground again and accidentally tipped it over. _"Mutt's nuts!"_

* * *

More to come! Please review!


	2. 2

"Oh, well, I would have to stop soon anyway, I can't hold liquor well at all." Tonks righted her glass and watched with interest as the spilled patch of grass fizzled and turned orange. "And with good reason, hm?"  
"I've heard of that attack," said a new, male voice from behind Harry. The three turned to see Dean Thomas standing there. "You know who the Death Eaters went to as a replacement for Regulus? My father, Jonathan Anduril."  
"What?" asked Hermione, surprised.  
"Ginny told me." He stood there awkwardly before adding quickly, "She told me about Sirius Black too, so don't worry about that." Dean explained, playing with his belt loop, "My father walked out on my mum soon after I was born. But she didn't know he was a wizard. Mum remarried Dad – well, my step-dad – and my whole family's Muggle, 'cept for me. See, Mr. Weasley knew Jonathan before the Death Eaters killed him. He knew that Jonathan had married a Muggle from London but had to leave to protect his family. When I met Mr. Weasley, he said that I looked like an old friend of his. So Ginny figured it out."  
"Wow," said Harry, a bit stupidly. The Death Eaters had affected nearly every single one of his classmates, even the ones who lived with Muggles. Dean got out a chair and sat next to Hermione as Harry thought about what Tonks and his classmate had just said. "Hey, Tonks, did your parents ever get harassed by the Death Eaters?"  
"No, thankfully. Maybe if You-Know-Who grew any more powerful...but I suppose mum's separation made the Blacks never try anything with us. Like we weren't worthy of destruction or something." "How did your mum get out of the Black family?" asked Hermione.  
"Not easily," Tonks replied flatly, shaking her head. "I can actually remember the last time Mum spoke to her family. I can only place it now by drawing on my mum and dad's memories of the occasion, which are a bit more lucid considering they were in their twenties and I was still aging in months...."

* * *

Andromeda, my mum, disliked her family greatly. I would in fact, be tempted to say that she hated them, but she was never one to admit something disgusted her to that breaking point of unnecessary abhorrence that plagues the world, wizard and Muggle alike. If there were one thing she hated, though, it would be her family. She was the middle child of the three Black sisters, and as you already know, they are one of the most conceited, sickeningly wealthy, and outright foul families you can find in these isles. And that's not even including their numerous connections to You-Know- Who.  
  
Her older sister, Bellatrix, was an outright terror of a bully I'm told, while the youngest, Narcissa, was pampered and babied almost to the point of incompetence. My mum, left to her own devices, was (and still is) a ridiculously clever girl - a Ravenclaw among countless Slytherins - but her tradition-driven clan largely ignored her.  
  
The real cinder in the eye for the Blacks, though, was her cousin Sirius, who had the cheeky audacity to become a Gryffindor a few years after my mum began Hogwarts. His own particular branch of the Black family gave him much more corporal distrust for his rebellion, practically forcing him to move out on his own in his seventh year, and the admiring Andromeda soon followed suit.  
  
But the luxury of growing up in Grimmauld Place, with a house-elf at every beck-and-call, made nearly knutless living very hard on Mum. Great-Uncle Alphard could have only helped her and Sirius so much, as nearly all the money he had left behind was gone. My mum, working two jobs in Diagon Alley, had to find a way to help herself out of her financial straits. Enter Theodore Tonks, my dad.  
  
The story of their meeting is a sweet one, which warrants a whole 'nother story, however, as I'm digressing further and further from my original point I'll just mention it in brief. My mum was working a late night in the bookshop when dad came strolling in looking for a tome on the twelve properties of dragon's blood. I can't recall exactly why that book was his query. My guess is its use as an oven cleaner as my dad is quite a slob, and somehow the topic of his recently purchased residence came in. Let's just leave it at that. They were married five months afterwards, and I was born four months after Mum became Andromeda Tonks.  
  
So she left her cramped flat in Diagon Alley to move in with Ted. For some reason, the Alley has become des res in the past few years, I suppose due to the removal of the persistent bundimun infestation in all the upper-level boxes. But anyway, they relocated to Ted's two-bed flat in Cheapside. Obviously, she was keeping herself entirely separated from her family – they would find her elusion deplorable yet perhaps forgivable, but it was her marriage to the Muggle- born Ted Tonks that would really do her in. Not that she really cared, of course, but her aim was to avoid trouble and any further contact with her family. She almost got her wish. Almost.  
  
Narcissa, although appearing to have all the cunning of a pudding, was interested enough in the disappearance of her sister to seek her out. After following a tip from Knockturn Alley, to Diagon Alley, to Cheapside, it was a brisk autumn day when my mum's 'black' past came to call at her front door.  
  
Now, this is where I can still recall some of that afternoon. Mum, looking for all the world like a domestic servant, with her soft blonde hair held up with a kerchief, had been mopping the tiling in the kitchen with the pungent Mrs. Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover. I can remember the acrid smell vividly, though right up until I asked Mum about it I always thought it was due to the air crackling into noxious chemicals around my ex- aunt's person. Narcissa arrived entirely unannounced, my mum tells me, and looking like a witch queen – which, in a way, she was – in a black and silver dress of velvet. I'm sure the difference between the two sisters was startling. Mum offered her a cuppa, which Narcissa refused disdainfully and launched immediately into a terrifying warning.  
  
When Mum tells this now, she tells it as if it were on the WWN a few nights ago, but I'm sure for years a tear would come to her dark eyes. Narcissa had come to inform Mum that her expulsion from the Black family was imminent, unless she returned to Grimmauld Place immediately with a full apology to family, both living and ancestral. "And stop seeing that wizard- trash Muggle-born immediately –"Narcissa had begun, and then turned in a suspicious half-circle to where Dad was standing, with myself in his arms.  
  
This is what I can still remember: the look of failure, loathing, and disbelief on Narcissa's face as she caught sight of me, her ex-niece. She would not even meet Dad's eyes, he can still remember. Instead, she stared coldly at Mum, who said casually, "I hear you and Lucius are engaged."  
  
"Andromeda, I always thought you were the clever one, but your brains are quite clearly addled. The Dark Lord is rising and the purebloods are regaining their proper power over the wizard world. They will spare none who dare contest their lineage. You have very foolishly chosen a Mudblood –"  
  
"Narcissa, a child is present –"  
  
"You may not consider yourself a Black."  
  
"I never did."  
  
Neither she nor Dad have ever confirmed me on this, but I'm sure she stood up and shouted, in the peculiar, cold, hard voice she only ever uses for punishment, "Get out of my house and if you ever dare tread within ten feet of this flat again you will never again exist as a corporeal being!"  
  
Then, it could just be my imagination.  
  
But whatever she said, Narcissa and the rest of the Blacks left us alone. Except, of course, for Sirius, who was the first, and only person outside the household she talked to about the encounter. The funny thing is, even though Sirius was in the flat quite frequently from then until we moved into our current home, I have absolutely no memory of him there.  
  
It was Sirius who found us a wizard residence on Cecil Court, a quaint little street in London lined with a mix of wizarding supply shops and Muggle occult stores, and rather close to his own hideaway, I hear. I never visited his little place, or at least I don't remember it, but I do recall his visits to Cecil Court. He, Mum, and Dad put a heap of protection spells on the place, and called it our home ever since.

* * *

"...well, until Mum got hit by a bus next to Trafalgar Square when I was at Hogwarts." Tonks raised her eyebrows. "But that was her own fault, might I add. She was working two jobs when she definitely didn't have to, and Dad tells me she was so tired she didn't even bother to look at the crossing. Madame Bifurk, my pre-school teacher, was there, but there were so many Muggles she couldn't heal Mum's head injury even enough to get her to St. Mungo's. She was dead in about two seconds, anyway." Tonks shrugged, but with a certain kind of heaviness that hinted she was making light of something very grave. "And now with Sirius gone, it's just myself and Dad."  
"You went to a pre-school?" asked Harry, interested. Hermione and Dean were both Muggle-born, well, Muggle-raised, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that he didn't know if or where wizards went to primary schools. "Do most wizards?"  
"Many go to some sort of a wizarding pre-school nowadays. If they need it," she added quickly, remembering that the Weasleys, who couldn't afford it, were all home-schooled. "There are some grammar schools cropping up here and there just for wizards and witches, but they're rather new. Most were taught at home or just down the street, like me. You would never give up your children to a school other than Hogwarts in my childhood. Too dangerous." She smiled. "The times are changing, quite for the better, I say."  
"What was your pre-school like, then?" said Hermione. "With Madame, what's her name, Bifurk?"  
"Well, expensive, I guess, considering Sirius and my parents had to save up until I was seven and a half to pay for it. And I suppose any one of them could have stayed home and taught me the basic skills I learned there, but the chance I had to finally mingle and play with children my age was priceless...."

* * *

My dad, of course, was taught to read, write, and do math at a Muggle primary, while Mum and Sirius were educated at home. I was already seven and a half and could barely read, let alone write, so they knew they had to do something. Their first concern was my safety, of course, but the very same Madame Bifurk had educated one of Mum's friends at Hogwarts.  
So, beginning in September, Mum would hold my hand and walk me down Cecil Court, past her cauldron shop, to the cheerful little flat of the elderly Madame Bifurk. There, along with five or six other children of various levels of instruction, I learned how to read comprehensively, write in cursive, and add two grams to a decagram to make a twelfth of a hectogram.  
I'm still rubbish at arithmetic but that wasn't Bifurk's falt.  
In the mornings, Bifurk would read us a story or a piece of history with the wizarding world in mind. Then the three of us in our first or second year would join the jolly, squat Bifurk in her funny, flat, aubergine-colored hat to read and work on short simple stories while the older children read on their own. Next, Bifurk would give us sentences to copy with quills and parchment as she assisted the older students in writing summaries of the books they had just read. This was always the time I would doodle, but eventually she gave up when she noticed that I got better at the quill by drawing than writing. Lunch, my favorite subject, followed, and we ate prepared pasties and sliced fruit as we chatted with the other students.  
Since I had a late start, I was the oldest of the beginner students. There was a girl from clear across the city who Floo'd from her own house into her aunt's on Cecil just to go to Bifurk's every morning. You-Know-Who forced people to do weird things for their safety, and Alice – that was her name, I think – was only allowed to go to people whom her parents trusted. The other student was a boy named David, barely six, who was a true genius. He was in my house in Hogwarts and I can remember he was the best of his year.  
After lunch was arithmetic for Alice, David, and me, but the food in my stomach and the restless morning usually made this time of day dreadful. It's bad enough to be told off by a mean teacher, but Madame Bifurk was so sweet that every time she had to tell me I was multiplying wrong again felt twice as worse.  
Finally, after math, or "the aftermath" as I like to call it – I still can't believe I took Arithmancy at Hogwarts – we younger students would take a nap so when our parents came we would be slightly less cranky. The older students got to talk about current events with Bifurk, to make sure they always knew what was going on in the wizarding world. Well, there was one day when we did nothing but current events – the day after You-Know- Who fell.  
Mum was thinking of taking me out of school that day, but the really funny thing was, the wizards outside were partying so hard that going to my teacher's house was about a hundred times safer. Also, Sirius had gone to Godric's Hollow because of the Potters, and Mum and Dad were worried about him as well. So I went to Bifurk's, where Alice and David were, and with the older students we ate chocolate cake made especially for the occasion. Bifurk sat all of us down right then and explained everything about You-Know-Who: his rise to power, the Death Eaters, the Unforgivable Curses, everything that she wanted us to know but was too worried to tell us before. To us children, it was all a bunch of fiction; we thought that such terrible things could never happen to us.

* * *

"See how things change?" Tonks shook her head. "That's why I'm a part of the second Order of the Phoenix. You-Know-Who never touched me directly, but my family and friends were all so affected by his reign of terror, I just can't be passive. Dad thought I was crazy for becoming an Auror four years ago. But I knew You-Know-Who wasn't dead. He's back, and this time –" a coldness came into her voice "– I'm ready for him."

"We all are," remarked Hermione.

There was a resounding silence in the group, which Harry interrupted by coughing exaggeratedly. "I thought this was supposed to be a party, not a death sentence."

Tonks chuckled. "Right! I'm making everything sound so dreadful, aren't I?" She ran her fingers through her dreadlocks and shook them out. "I really didn't have that poor a childhood. After You-Know-Who's downfall, things got a lot easier. Well," she corrected herself, biting her lip, "except for Sirius disappearing. After he gave his bike to Hagrid, see, he went off for a year. He knew that there would be accusations against him because of the Fidelius charm, and the combination of two of his best friends being killed plus his suspicion could have easily put him over the deep end."

"So what did he do?" asked Dean, interested. The concept of Sirius Black as an innocent man was still new to him.

"He ran off. He spent some time in Scotland, as a dog in a fishing village somewhere in the Shetlands. He told me a few months ago. I have no clue how he managed being a Muggle pet for so long, but if it made him feel better, it's horses for courses I guess. He was on his way back to his and Lupin's flat when Pettigrew caught up with him and...." She petered off. "Well, you know the rest of that story."

"You never knew Sirius was innocent until now?" Hermione felt terrible for Tonks.

"Pretty much. I was sure for years that he couldn't have been a mass murderer, but after so long...I had to give in to the so-called 'facts' and admit that my uncle was crazy." Hermione looked so pitying that Tonks had to add, "But if you think I got it bad, try Remus!"

* * *

More to come! Please review!

Flagrant plug for my story "Please Come Home"


	3. 3

The party now was winding down, and parents were arriving in cars and on broomsticks to pick up their children. Mrs. Thomas, driving an old station wagon, looked quite bewildered at the sight of the haphazard house and multitude of wizards and witches.   
  
"I had better be off then," said Dean, catching sight of his mum, and he went off to find Ginny.  
  
"The cover is blown!" growled Moody, clumping up to Tonks. His beady, dark eye bored into her as his magical eye scanned the sky above suspiciously.  
  
"That's just the Finnegans, Mad-Eye," replied Tonks, shaking her head and watching the couple descend gracefully into the Weasleys' garden. "You know the months of shielding we put on this place. No one but those who were invited can Floo, Apparate, or fly in."  
  
Moody grumbled to himself, but as he was in charge of protection the Burrow from the start of the plans, he knew it was secure.  
  
"I'm going to go say good-bye to Lavender and Parvati," announced Hermione heavily, as if she really dreaded it. She stood up and moved her chair back, and then went to extract Ron from her dorm mates.  
  
"You best be off," said Tonks to Harry, standing up and knocking over her chair. "We'll clean up."  
  
"Right," replied Harry, putting his hands in his pockets.   
  
He felt a rather unusual feeling now that that he had finally experienced his first birthday party. Even though he shared the occasion with Neville, it still felt odd that all of his friends had given him so much attention and so many presents on one day. There were three red practice Snitches from Ron, a rather smart scarf and hat knitted by Hermione, a box of sugar quills and jelly slugs from Neville, a palm-sized box that could hold a cubic foot from Seamus, and an exciting animated picture Dean had drawn of a Quidditch match between two very equal teams, so that every time Harry looked the other side was winning.   
  
Fred and George had arrived with a literal bang! and promptly handed Harry a gift cheque for ten Galleons at Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Ron nearly crying in injustice ("Just wait, little brother," whispered a smirking George, "until your own birthday!"). Harry had the demanding task of writing thank-you notes before him, but fortunately the upcoming month at the Burrow would afford him plenty of time. The adults hadn't given him anything corporal, but the rescue from Privet Drive and the ensuing party was worth a hundred Galleons. Until -  
  
"Oops, Harry, almost forgot," said Tonks. She haphazardly waved her wand at a neat pile of empty butterbeer jugs and in a small flash of purple light they rolled every which over the table. "Bollocks! I'll never get this cleaning bit right," she complained through gritted teeth, picking up three bottles from the ground.   
  
"Um, you wanted something?" prompted Harry.  
  
"Right - yes -" she answered, making the bottles into a neat pile again. " - your birthday present."  
  
"Oh, no, you don't -" he began to argue.  
  
"You only turn sixteen once!" she protested, grinning. "No, it's not big. I didn't make or buy it or anything. But Dad wanted you to have it, so it's from him and me, and - well, you'll see in a second." Searching for something, she stuck her hand into her back pocket and had to put her arm in all the way to her elbow before finding it. "Here - now - tell me, who do you think once owned that?"  
  
She presented her hand palm-up to Harry, and in it was a thin strap of black dragonhide twisted with a band of flexible, silver metal. It was only twelve or fourteen inches long, and it had a small silver clasp on one end with a loop of dragonhide on the other. Even though it was small and fine, it had a very potent appearance, and Harry was surprised at its weight when he took it from Tonks.   
  
"When did he give it to you?" asked Harry, Sirius entering the conversation without any identification. Mrs. Weasley appeared and waved the butterbeer bottles away, humming merrily.  
  
"He left it at Cecil Court before he ran off." Tonks yawned. "D-Dad found it a few days ago when he was looking for a pair of socks and I knew you'd like it."  
  
"It's...." Harry looked at the unusual necklace in his hand with intrigue. "Wicked, I guess that's all I can say about it."  
  
"I think he got that around the same time he got the m-motorbike," mused Tonks, yawning again. Mrs. Weasley seemed to pick up on the unspoken pronoun and found something a few tables over suddenly fascinating.  
  
Harry closed his fingers around the present. He dearly yearned to wear it, but he was starting to fall asleep as well and he wanted to see it without drooping eyelids.  
  
"Come on, mate, I see you're fading fast," said Ron, appearing next to Tonks. "You better get to bed soon, Mum and I aren't going to drag you up five flights of stairs if you fall asleep."  
  
Harry chuckled and pocketed the necklace. "Right. Well, Tonks, thanks - thanks a lot for telling me about him. It made me feel a lot better, y'know?"  
  
"Anytime, Harry," replied Tonks, shrugging. "Though I might start prattling on about myself again, you can just poke me with a stick and I'll stop."  
  
Harry yawned loudly in reply.  
  
"Oi, you're right out of it!" said Ron, and he nudged Harry towards the Burrow. The truth was, Harry had been so excited about the day that he had barely sleep the night before, and now it was taking its toll. He complied with Ron and walked towards the Burrow, waving Tonks goodbye.  
  
"How sweet of you," said Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks turned in surprise. "Poor Harry got so close to his godfather in such a short amount of time that - it was - quite surprising." She sniffed, and Tonks felt sorry as well for Mrs. Weasley, who probably held a grudge against Sirius right up until the fight in the Department of Mysteries.   
  
"'Night, Mrs. Weasley!" called Neville, being chivvied along by his formidable grandmother.  
  
"'Night, Neville! Happy birthday! Oh, Mrs. Longbottom, the Floo's in the flowerpot. Here, let me show you -" Mrs. Weasley ran off to guide the Longbottoms to the fireplace. Tonks scratched her dreadlocks, which were beginning to bother her. With a slight change of mind, they smoothed out into black and pinkish-maroon curls framing her heart-shaped face. She stretched and was going to help Elphias Dodge bring a table inside when she noticed two dark shapes walking up the driveway.  
  
"Hello?" called Tonks, walking towards the front gate. She undid the latch with her left hand and held her wand in her pocket tightly with her right. The dark shapes kept walking closer, too far to make out and possibly too far to hear her. Where was Moody and his magical eye when you really needed them? She stepped onto the dusty driveway, lit only by the Burrow's light and the waxing moonlight. "Hello?" she called again, more loudly.   
  
"Hello!" said one of the people brightly, waving. "Is the party over?"  
  
"Um, well, yes -" replied Tonks, looking around wildly. This was definitely not the greeting she was expecting. "Are you lost?"  
  
"Not at all!" said the other person, a man as well. They both carried broomsticks. "This is my home."  
  
"Fiends!" cried Moody, appearing out of the bushes with his wand raised menacingly.  
  
"Mad-Eye! Since when are you Sir Cardogan?" replied Tonks.  
  
"We're safe," said the second person, and now he was close enough Tonks could make out his orange hair and resemblance to the twins. "I'm Charlie Weasley; I'm a member of the Order, remember?"  
  
"You weren't invited; how did you get in here?" asked Moody, incredulous.  
  
"We walked." Charlie and his friend, a tall, thin, dark-haired man of about twenty-five, chuckled at Moody's aghast face.  
  
"We tried to fly in - we have been flying from Romania since yesterday morning, we had a stopover in Lorraine - but every time we tried to land it was like sliding on ice. So finally we landed a half of a mile away and walked in." The man had a soft Eastern European accent, but his English sounded very natural.  
  
"Just - walked in?" repeated Moody, looking thunderstruck. "How come I didn't think of that?"  
  
"Because the Death Eaters aren't the strolling type?" suggested Tonks.  
  
"Sorry we didn't write to say we were coming, but Nic and I got the okay for these days off just last week," added Charlie. He looked towards the house, caught sight of his mum and signalled for her attention as he dashed towards her.  
  
"So we really did miss the party?" asked Nic of Tonks, sounding very sad.  
  
"I'm sure there's enough food and such inside," Tonks assured him. She turned to follow Charlie and tripped, and Nic caught her before she even hit the ground. "Thanks!" she said graciously, turning the same colour as her trousers. "I'm Tonks, by the way," she added, escorting him towards the Burrow.  
  
"Nicolae Stanescu," he replied, falling into step beside her.  
  
"Walked in!" muttered Moody viciously, trailing behind the others.

* * *

"I'm so glad you're here, Charlie!" said Mrs. Weasley again, fixing Nic and her son a heaping plateful of every leftover from the party. "I was beginning to worry that I hadn't had word from you in so long."  
  
"Well, I was sort of hoping my coming home would be a surprise, but apparently it was provided for," replied Charlie, grinning at Moody. Moody scowled.  
  
"It was a good protection, though, Mr. Moody, so well done," Nic complimented, with one eye on the ex-Auror and another on the tottering pile of food on his forthcoming plate.  
  
"And just remember, Mad-Eye, how else would Mrs. Thomas come?" added Tonks. She was sitting backwards in a corner chair of the kitchen, and appeared awake.  
  
"I think we've had enough talk about the shielding, obviously it's held the night," said Emmeline Vance in a tone that clearly indicated she had had enough.   
  
Mrs. Weasley placed the two platefuls of food before the new arrivals and added, "Most thankfully."  
  
"Right. I think it's time we have a report from our foreign member of the Order, hm?" suggested Sturgis Podmore, who was stroking his chin.  
  
"Oh, sure," said Charlie, thinking of where to begin. "Actually, I brought Nic so he could tell you about the reservation; he's one of the directors and knows the more about it than I do."  
  
Nic looked like he was about to cry, but he put down his fork and spoke. "The Stanescu International Dragon Reservation is located in the centre of Romania, between the Muntii Buzaulu and Muntii Vrangei range. It is home to the world's population of Romanian Longhorns, and because of its climate, remote location, and size, we are also able to care for at least one of every pure-bred dragon specie."  
  
"And there are wizards from everywhere there?" asked Hestia.  
  
"Yes, from the Antipodes to the Caribbean, there are witches and wizards from all over the world who go there to do research. Because our dragons are so well-cared for and their environment is re-created so expertly, many times it is easier for researchers to travel to Romania to study their homeland species."   
  
"Wait a minute - _Stanescu _International Dragon Reservation?" asked Tonks.  
  
"It's been in my family for four decades." Nic smiled at her.  
  
"So have you been getting the word out, Charlie?" asked Mrs. Weasley expectantly. Nic quickly took the opportunity to tuck in and Tonks quickly took the opportunity to giggle to herself like a thirteen-year-old.  
  
"As much as I can when I'm not wrestling Horntails." Charlie shrugged apologetically. "I try to warn people about You-Know-Who coming back, but it's only of concern to the Europeans because they can still remember it. I tried to tell my South African friend Arda Krueger about the threat of a British Dark wizard and she laughed!"  
  
"That's what Dumbledore fears," said Dedalus Diggle sadly.  
  
"Besides, it's not like I can hand out flyers, can I?" continued Charlie, getting annoyed. "Nic's been a great help dealing with the administrators but I still have to watch my step. Most of the time I have no clue as to the intentions of the visitors. What if there's a Death Eater posing as a researcher who'll kill me as soon as I mention You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Then you take it!" growled Moody. "Are you a member of the Order or not? Your top priority is to get the word out on You-Know-Who! That's the whole reason we reinstated it!"  
  
"Well, it's not like people don't know it now," interjected Tonks. "Didn't we accomplish our mission already? Isn't there now a guide to protecting yourself from dark wizards in every wizarding household in Britain?"  
  
"But not every wizarding household in Europe, not every wizarding household in the world," Emmeline remarked wisely. There was a halt in the conversation, and everyone looked back at Charlie expectantly.  
  
"Oh, all right," he replied conclusively. "I understand. I guess I haven't been as attentive to the Order as I should have been. But now that we know You-Know-Who's back - I mean, now everyone knows - it's going to be a lot easier to explain things to the visitors."  
  
"So do make sure you do that," remarked Kingsley, blinking slowly.  
  
"I will help, of course," said Nic, swallowing a mouthful of corned beef. "It will be a lot easier for me, anyway. Charlie is always busy tending to the dragons. I could add it to my tour. 'On your left is a beautiful female Peruvian Vipertooth. Hands outside the pens, please. On your right is our new acquisition, a male Swedish Short-Snout. Please be on the lookout for any nasty Dark wizards intent on destruction.' "  
  
A chuckle went round the room, followed by a sleepy silence broken only by Nic and Charlie's munching.   
  
Hestia looked at her wristwatch and shook her head. "I can't believe I have to be at the store in six hours. Well, I must get going."  
  
Nearly all of the adults stood up and agreed in a rumbling chorus of "And I"'s. Farewells were exchanged, and Mrs. Weasley led them to the fireplace, hoping that she had enough Floo to get everyone who didn't feel like Apparating home safely. Soon, only Tonks, Charlie, and Nic were in the kitchen, the latter already nearly done with his plate.  
  
"Did you eat at all since Romania?" asked Tonks, astonished.  
  
Nic smiled. "I have a very fast stomach and I am almost always hungry." He polished off his last chunk of boiled chicken and wiped his fingers on the napkin. "Your mother is a very excellent cook, Charlie. I have to thank her."  
  
Charlie nodded through his asparagus, and Mrs. Weasley reappeared in the kitchen. "Now, Nic, Charlie, I put Ron and Harry in Ron's room with the spare bed frame, so Nic's going to have to sleep on the floor - oh, Tonks! Oh, dear." She looked down into the flowerpot, perturbed. "I just used the last of Floo . Do you mind Apparating all the way to London?"  
  
Tonks bit her lip. She had qualified for her Apparating license on her 17th birthday without a hitch and somehow never really used it much since then. It had been years since her last go at it. Ottery St. Catchpole wasn't terribly far from London, but after so long, and her being so tired again, she was nervous about tempting a splinch. But she also didn't want to be rude, Mrs. Weasley obviously didn't have enough room for her to spend the night and she had to get to the Ministry the next morning -  
  
"Do you fly well?" asked Nic, leaning back in his chair and fixing his pale eyes on Tonks.  
  
"Do I - er - what?" replied Tonks, getting addled from Nic's gaze and her lack of sleep.  
  
"She's excellent," answered Charlie, shovelling mash onto his fork. "Chaser for her house fifth through seventh year, isn't that right?"  
  
"Yes. Yes," said Tonks, rubbing her eyes and focusing her tired brain. "Yes, I fly well."  
  
"You can borrow my broom, if you would like. I just need it back by the day after tomorrow."  
  
"Oh!" Tonks replied stupidly. "Oh, wow, sure, that would be excellent."  
  
"Great!" Nic rose and retrieved his broomstick, a well-trimmed Comet 290. "If you are ever disoriented, I am leaving the compass on the shaft." He pointed out the small clip as Tonks took the broom from him and admired it, remembering her own Comet 260 at home.   
  
"Well, wow...thanks," stammered Tonks, overwhelmed by the broom and the terribly thoughtful stranger. "I, er, I guess I better be off then?"  
  
"Right you are," said Mrs. Weasley, escorting Tonks from the room. She recognised the slightly fish-eyed look of someone who might never leave the room on their own power. They made it all the way to the front door with Tonks tripping over her feet only once. On the front steps, with the door closed, Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "Oh dear, it sure looks like someone fancies you, Nymphadora!"  
  
The cool night air and the sudden use of her first name woke Tonks up out of her miniature daze. "You know not to call me that, Molly," she protested, only half-serious.  
  
"I think it's a beautiful name."  
  
"_I_ think it's a ridiculous name. 'Nymph' is bad enough without the 'adora' on it! Like I'm some sort of adorable forest spirit!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled serenely. "I'm glad you've taken your ability to look like whomever you wish with care. While you may not see it now, you have an inner beauty that you've chosen to ignore in favour of your...erm...more obvious countenance." She tugged on a curly lock of black and pink hair in demonstration, but Tonks didn't quite catch on. "Many would use a glamorous appearance to their advantage, but you've kept true to yourself. And because of that, the beauty inside of you shines all the more brightly."  
  
Tonks got it then, but she still didn't know quite what to say in reply. What _could_ she say? "So - you think - Nic and I -?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Don't worry about that - you've got better and less obvious things to think about than _him_." There was a second's pause. "But, of course!"  
  
Tonks smiled, and then Disillusioned herself. "I really must get going - work in five hours!" She shook her head, but she knew Mrs. Weasley couldn't see her well enough in the dark to catch the gesture. "Thanks for everything."  
  
"No problem, dear," she replied, looking over Tonks's left shoulder. "Don't forget, bring Nic's broom back!"  
  
"You know I won't forget to!" Tonks kicked off into the cold night air and the shining stars spread out around the moon, and for the first time in a long time, she felt very, very happy.

* * *

Ooh! Ahh! A semblance of a plot appears! Could there be romantic entanglements in store for Tonks? What about the necklace? And Dean Thomas? And just where is Dumbledore? Keep reading, but first - review! 


	4. 4

It was ten minutes until the end of the day at the office and Tonks was near the breaking point. She had a stack of photographs on her desk that morning with a note from her superiors to determine if any of the figures were Azkaban breakouts. It sounded easy enough, but the grainy pictures' lack of definition plus the tendency of the photographed convicts to hide under the frames made the process absolutely maddening. The last one in the pile was taken near Wiltshire, and Tonks was attempting to determine if the captured person was Bellatrix Lestrange. But the shadowy figure was adept at hiding behind an oak tree when Tonks was poking about under the frame, and vice versa. The fortunate thing, and the reason Tonks had saved this one for last, was that she knew what her ex-aunt looked like well, and so even a quick glimpse would identify her. The unfortunate thing was that the photograph wasn't giving her the chance at all.  
"Oh, come off it, let me see you, you mangy git," she started cursing at the photograph, jabbing at the oak tree with her wand. There was a grainy blur, and the figure was under the frame again. _"Sodding curwhacker!"_ she exclaimed, throwing down the photograph in frustration.  
"Prewett gave you the photographs?" asked Kyle Grimsby, a very longhaired wizard who was leaning on Tonks's cubicle wall.  
"Yes," she replied darkly, organising the photographs and paperwork she had already completed.  
"I had them last week. She knows what a bitch they are so she rotates them among us."  
"Well, that's a relief. I won't have to see them again for a while. I'm going mad." Tonks massaged her temples and looked up into the eyes of the Ballycastle Bats Quidditch team, and a certain fit Keeper flashed her a large grin and a thumbs-up. "Why are you done so early?"  
"I had to write an article about the latest house protections and I just sent it off to the Daily Prophet."  
Tonks chuckled. "Ask Mad-Eye Moody about it."  
"No, I'd like to be able to actually enter my house from time to time."  
She scribbled out her last bit of paperwork with a green quill. "Kyle, I'm saying this last picture is Lestrange because I can't get her to stand still for a second, but in case anyone asks I saw her clearly, okay?"  
"All right," he replied, smirking.  
"Oi, I'm finally done." With a flourish she deposited the last parchment on top of her pile, straightened it out, and dropped it into Caroline Prewett's cubicle next to hers.  
"Hey, what's that broomstick doing here?" Kyle picked up Nic's Comet, which was leaning on Tonks's desk. "I thought you were saving up for a cleaning witch for the flat."  
"Yes, Dad and I still are. That's my friend's broom. Well, not really a friend. But it's not mine."  
"Not really a friend?" he repeated, admiring the smooth twigs.  
"Well, I just met him last night. He's the best friend of one of the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley was out of Floo and I was too tired to Apparate, so he lent me his broom. I have to give it back soon, though, so be careful with it."  
"He just lent you your broom? What a nice fellow!" he remarked as he replaced the broom.  
"I know," replied Tonks, getting a faraway look in her eyes. "He's Romanian, you know."  
"Oh dear," said Kyle, recognising her tone of voice. "Tall?" She nodded. "Dark-haired?" She nodded again, and began to smile. "Handsome? ...Pale eyes? ...Green travelling cloak?"  
_ "Huh?"_  
"Hi!" Nic appeared next to Kyle. Tonks jumped. "I was just seeing the sights of London and I decided to pay you a visit."  
Kyle sniggered very quietly and gave Tonks a cheeky wink before sliding out of her vision. "How did you get in here?" she asked, looking for an identification badge.  
"Oh," he said, turning slightly red under his coloured complexion. "Well, the security wizard was kind enough to let me visit you, though I do not know quite why –"  
"My dad, I bet. He's just starting work now." Tonks was sure her dad had put her talking about the kindly stranger last night together with the Romanian who wanted to see her this afternoon. She was still deciding whether she was going to thank him or kick him. "You did get a badge though?"  
"Yes..." he answered vaguely, clutching his pocket protectively.  
"What's the big deal?"  
"Fine." Turning cherry red, he brought out the badge.

**N I C O L A E S T A N E S C U**  
ATTEMPTING TO CHAT UP EMPLOYEETonks grinned, Nic following, and soon they were cracking up into great fits of laughter. "Too literal that is!"  
She wiped away a tear and handed back the badge. "Here's –_ ha!_ – here's your identification. And your broom."  
He took the Comet. "Am I at least doing what I came here to do, then?"  
"Yes, yes, I suppose you are," Tonks replied, pushing her chair under her desk. Somewhere, a deep bell sounded. "Five o'clock. I'm free to go! C'mon then, let's get something to eat."  
"You sure know the way to a Stanescu's heart." Nic followed Tonks out of her cubicle and into the elevator, then to the red telephone box, and out into the bright, hot, London sunshine.

* * *

Nic was working through his third helping of chicken _marsala_ and Tonks was munching on _naan_ bread and _sag panir_ when the Knight Bus banged into existence below them. A tottery old witch in scarlet robes jumped aboard, and two seconds later the bus was swerving at breakneck speed through the Muggle traffic.  
"Wha iff FAH?" exclaimed Nic through his chicken, watching the purple bus veer through a traffic build-up like a fish darting through water.  
"The Knight Bus. It's a wizard transport, I rode it just last year."  
"An fa –"he swallowed "-and the Muggles do not see it?"  
Far along the rode, there was another loud bang and the Knight Bus disappeared. "I guess not. It's a mad ride though, I nearly got sick on it."  
A warm breeze blew over them. They were perched on a rooftop overlooking a busy London street, eating dinner and watching the hustle and bustle of the Muggles below. There was no Disillusionment Charm or any protection on them, as Tonks was sure no one would bother to look up, and if they did, there was a service elevator (though locked) that could explain their sitting on a tall building. The truth was that they had Apparated there after taking out at a vindaloo, Tonks's treat.  
_"Although it was he who found me,"_ she had thought, _"I don't want to look like a dependent. Besides, he more than likely has no British Muggle money."_  
And so the warm August evening found the young adults sitting on top of a flat complex with two boxes of Indian food. Sitting beside Tonks, Nic sighed happily.  
"Hey, Nic," said Tonks. "I have a question."  
"Hm?" he replied, taking some of her rice.  
"If I take you to an Indian restaurant, am I trying to curry your favour?"  
He groaned. "Less bad jokes, more goat cheese." He speared Tonks's _sag panir_ with his fork and stuffed a cheese cube in her mouth.  
"Hankff," she replied, acting upset.  
"No, I am just kidding. I like to hear you talk. Tell me about your work."  
She swallowed. "I'm an Auror for the Ministry of Magic, so I catch Dark wizards. Most of the time it's paperwork and prevention tactics, but just a few months ago I had to fight a bunch directly." She shuddered but Nic looked intrigued. "It sounds like fun, I know, but I got seriously hexed and I spent quite a bit of time in the hospital."  
"Really?" he asked, now looking upset. "Are you all better now?"  
She shrugged. "As much as can be expected. I had some wicked scars on my torso and face but I don't feel like toting them around."  
Nic squinted at her and moved his head, examining her face. "Where are they then?"  
"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she explained. "I look like whatever I want to."  
He gasped. "Brilliant! Charlie once told me about them – you – and I thought they – you – were very interesting."  
"It's like you knew me before you met me," remarked Tonks. Nic just smiled. "So...do you have Aurors in Romania as well?"  
"Yes, we have had a fair share of Dark wizards and witches ourselves. In my childhood, it was a very bad time to be a well-known family. Everyone knew us, and so all the Dark wizards tried to get us, to scare the others or make a point -" He stopped suddenly. "What?"  
Tonks was slightly agape. "You – you should exactly like my best friend. She left Greece when she was eight for that very reason."  
"Then she and her family were smart. We, on the other hand, were not so lucky." His pale eyes darkened. "I lost a sister to the scourge of Romania, _Necescu_." He spoke the name with such vehemence that Tonks was sure Nic understood the terror of You-Know-Who.  
"Is Nece-"  
"Do not say it."  
"Is...You-Know-Who-I'm-Talking-About still alive?"  
"No, thank goodness. He was killed about four years ago by a special team of _Numinii_, what we call Aurors."  
"Wow, so you still –"  
"- remember him in everything I do, yes."  
"But how did Charlie ever get to the dragon reservation? How did a world of wizards and witches come in and out of the Carpathians with a terrorist running around?"  
"That was his great plot. By making everything look good and working for the visitors,_ he_ was able to make everyone laugh at the thought of babies being murdered because their parents did not want to submit to his regime."  
Tonks put her hand to her mouth in astonishment. Nic nodded sadly.  
"And did Charlie know?"  
"I waited a long time after he was my friend to even tell him about the danger. I knew _he_ would not go after an Englishman, so after about a year of him working at the reservation I told him about _him_."  
Tonks was a little confused about the double pronouns, but she understood the cause for secrecy.  
"And it saved my life, as well. Word got back to _him_ that I was seeking international help for my country. But I hid out in Charlie's room for a long time and escaped his punishment. My good friend Jeogina, who was doing much the same as I was, had a much different fate."  
"Wow," said Tonks plainly. "I thought being an Auror and part of the Order was devotion. You and your friends are – well, inspirational. Is that why you came back with Charlie?"  
"No, I just came for the five-day vacation. But that is why I believed Charlie when he said your own terror was back. But why am I acting so sad? Why are you looking so upset? My country is picking up its pieces. Your country is preparing to fight the good fight and you are doing all that you can to help your people. Do not be sad, this is where a steady heart is needed most." He smiled gently, and reached out and touched her short, shaggy hair. "What colour do you call this?"  
"Fuschia," she replied with a grin. "Didn't you notice my hair was totally different from last night before I told you I was a Metamorphmagus?"  
Nic shrugged. "I do not usually look at hair, even when it is such an odd colour."  
"What do you look at then?" asked Tonks, placing a hand on the back of her neck.  
"What a person sounds like, acts like, what a person stands for." He surveyed her with his pale eyes. Tonks squinted and made her face asymmetric and ugly. Nic poked her lumpy nose. "Nope, still beautiful."  
_"Hey, you kids!"_ shouted someone from behind. Nic and a restored Tonks turned around to see a grubby-looking superintendent in the door of the service elevator wagging a set of keys threateningly at them.  
"The Burrow!" shouted Nic, grabbing his Comet. A second later, there were two popping noises, and a second after that, only an empty carton of sag panir and a very confused super on the rooftop.

* * *

"Oh, we really should have given him a Memory Charm," said Nic, worried.  
"It'd only make it worse now. I'll just let it slip," replied Tonks. She was still nervous, and her hair was turning an ugly, flat pinkish colour. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, still remembering the Muggle's astonished face. "Oh, we _really _should have given him a Memory Charm."  
Nic narrowed his eyes at her in mock suspicion. "Did not I just say that?"  
Tonks smiled weakly. "Okay, so I'm going to get in trouble. What's the worst that could happen?"  
"Kicked out of the Order?" he suggested sadly.  
"Nah, Mundungus's broken nearly every law and he's still a valuable member." Her eyes strayed to the lopsided house looming above of them, and she remembered Mrs. Weasley. "Well, I think so anyway."  
"I do not think things were that bad. What could that Muggle do?"  
"You'd be surprised how quickly they can catch on to things. If the Ministry let every little thing like this slip, in no time at all the Muggles would be banging on our door." She grimaced, sighed heavily, and looked around. With a shrug, she said, "Well, I don't see any Magical Law Enforcement setting us up for an ambush, do you?" Nic shook his head. "Right, then, I'll just get in and Floo myself home."  
"What?" asked Nic, sounding shocked. "The sun is still up! It can not be even eight yet! Why are you going home?"  
"I – uh – I actually wanted to catch up on some sleep," she explained, trying not to sound like a deserter.  
"Oh." Nic looked as sad as an empty plate, and soon was just about as coherent. "Oh, well, okay, I guess you better, if sleeping – is what, you're needing, then-"  
"What is it?" asked Tonks, thoroughly confused.  
"Well, tomorrow Charlie and I are going to Romania, and I will not be able to see you again for quite a bit..." Forgetting something, you twit?! Tonks mentally screamed at herself. "You know, but if you do not want to spend any more time with me...."  
"No! It's not that at all!" She slapped her forehead. "I just totally forgot! Honestly."  
He brightened immediately. "So you do want to spend some more time with me?"  
"Well, of course!" Tonks started to chuckle and ended up laughing uproariously. "Are you kidding me? You're Mr. Perfect Stranger! How could anyone not want to spend more time with you?"  
"Huh?" Nic looked so surprised that Tonks couldn't tell if he was dismayed or flattered. "At home no girl ever wants to spend time with me. They all go after the foreigners and the muscular dragon tamers like Charlie. I am just an anonymous Stanescu boy."  
"You're not anonymous," argued Tonks authoritatively. "And certainly at least one girl wants to spend time with you. Now knock off feeling sorry for yourself, it's not going to get you anywhere with me."  
"See, you are so different!" He grinned and shook his head slowly. "No one would ever say something like that at home. That is why I like being with you."  
"Good, because I'm not going all soft-headed just because you've got a todger." Tonks closed her eyes and grinned broadly at her joke. Next to her, she could almost hear him rolling his eyes. She opened her eyes wide and lightly slapped her face a few times. "Ugh, I'm absolutely zonked but I don't want to wait another – what, another month? – to see you again."  
A face appeared in a window on the second story of the Burrow, and Tonks recognised Harry. He grinned and waved until a shorter, red-haired face appeared – presumably Ginny. She had a few short words with him and pulled the shade down exasperatedly.  
"They are giving us our privacy?"  
"It's rather rude for us to just be standing in their garden, isn't it?" She took Nic's arm. "C'mon, they have a lovely grassy knoll back here."  
She led him through a grove of trees to a small paddock, where just last night she had played Quidditch with the Weasleys. As soon as they were out of sight of the Burrow, she sat down on the grass. Nic followed.  
"Hey, Tonks, look at the sunset." He pointed towards the slowly reddening west through the trees. "In Romania there are always big mountains framing it, plus the occasional dragon, but the trees make it so much more –"  
"- tangible?"  
"How so?"  
"Well, doesn't it look like all we have to do is walk back out of the grove and the sun is in our hands?"  
Nic cocked his head and examined the sunset. "Yes, yes, I suppose so. I never thought something like that could be right there in front of you, but just add some trees and it's just so –"  
"-close."

He was inches away from her, and he turned his pale eyes to her brightening hair. "Your hair is the colour of the sunset right now." "

Right now?"

"Right now. A minute later it will be too pink for the sky."

"I can make it more purple."

"No, I want it just the way it is right now." He took her hand. "Everything is changing as we sit here and wait, you know. You can not keep anything delayed. I want to just take this moment right here and keep it forever. The sky – your hair – in this moment, this moment only."

"This moment, right now?"

_"Right now."_

They kissed, and somewhere two mischievous, enterprising redheads on holiday sniggered behind their brand-new Anti-Foliage Telescopes.

* * *

Whew! I know I got a bit carried away with Nicolae this chapter, but I swear this story is not a PWP! Lots more to come, plus some more flashbacks from Tonks, and some questions I left hanging on this very sappy chapter. Oh well, could be worse...could be raining!


End file.
